Man Tiger by Eka Kurniawan

Author:Eka Kurniawan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Verso Books

Four

Margio seldom saw his mother happy, and often thought of doing things to cheer her up. He would go back to their kampong and look for gifts for her. If he had some money from doing odd jobs at other people’s houses, Margio would buy his mother ten sticks of satay or a new pair of flip-flops, which lifted the gloom for a little while. Nothing worked for long, and when he realized that he started to direct his frustration at Komar.

Back then, Komar often hit Nuraeni right in front of their son, beating her black and blue. Margio was still too small to intervene, and he often got whacked himself. He would lean against the door, with Mameh at his side biting the hem of her dress, while Nuraeni cowered in a corner and Komar stood above her with the rattan duster in his hand. Komar always found some excuse to swing it at her.

Sometimes the beatings happened outdoors, and Nuraeni would run round the house for all the neighbors to see. Komar chased her, and devils orbiting them stoked his anger, until Nuraeni ran into the house to shield herself with the door. But Komar always pushed his way in, on one occasion shivering the door to pieces. He would throw her to the floor and kick her thighs over and over. The watching neighbors would rub their chests, and Margio turned his face away. Mameh was the only one who cried, sobbing for a long time afterward in her mother’s embrace.

His mother’s stubbornness began to manifest in Margio, who wouldn’t fight Komar but took to provoking him, goading him to swing the rattan cane. Sometimes Komar didn’t like it when Margio left for his grandfather’s kampong, but the boy stood his ground. On a Saturday afternoon, he’d leave without saying a word, returning on Sunday night to face Komar’s rage. The next day Margio would limp to school, after Komar had beat him, plunged him into the water tub, yanked at his ears and thrown a coconut shell dipper at him. Komar would often feel envious when he watched the boy calmly playing with his marbles, trading cards, and crickets. Margio would grow more unyielding to Komar’s grumbling, chipping away at the man’s patience until he got smacked. Margio never fought back, as everyone knew, but stayed calm with his toys until Komar seized them and threw them into the trash. Margio would pull them back out, and Komar would run after him, dragging him along by one of his feet, with the boy’s sprawled body scraping against the ground. Margio would be lifted and tossed into the house, smashing against a chair leg. The boy would simply grimace, and the unsatisfied Komar would come after him again, grabbing him by the hair and banging him against a wooden pole. On one occasion the kid’s forehead gushed blood, but Margio never backed down.

Even gentle-mannered Mameh got her share of the rattan duster, the same way he’d lash out at a stray cat when it passed him.

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